


Adopted

by goddamnitaisha



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, M/M, NSFW, Oneshot, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 00:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddamnitaisha/pseuds/goddamnitaisha
Summary: Smutty rarepair oneshot: When Asuma is shopping in Konoha for a present, he meets a beautiful mesmerizing woman. Will he discover in time that the person is actually Orochimaru?Spoiler: no, and they have sex (M/F) in an alleyway.Details: Porn with plot. 3rd POV from Asuma. Good writing. Sex starts at 2/5th, lasts to 4/5th. Orochimaru doesn't become wifely, he stays IC. Written for those who are familiar with my headcanons, e.g. that Orochimaru is the son of the 3rd Mizukage. Daddy kink, ehh unexplored 'adoptive-daddy'-issues, incest I guess.





	Adopted

**Author's Note:**

> Now I've finally posted this monster, I'm going to eat some burritos. I'm starving and it's three hours past dinnertime. Leave me emojis or comments at the end of my story, please.

A woman walked in front of Asuma in the busy shopping district. Her hair was so beautiful and long. She reminded him of... somone, but he couldn't immediately recall who.

It was four days after the Jounin exam training, and Ino had just made Jounin--along with the other girls in her year. As tradition dictated he was looking for a teacher-student gift. But where Kakashi and Kurenai had come up with masterful ideas, he was on his third round past the shop windows.

He might as well follow the woman. Right? Should he? It wasn't creepy if they were walking in the same direction, right? This was a busy street.

Her beauty was the way she pulled back her sleeve with one hand and exposed her wrist before weighing an orange in her other hand. There were many beautiful women in the world. There were many sexy women in the world--(sex sells, that's why every woman showed butt and boobs. Not that he'd complain. No. Let the ladies wear what they like.) But there were not many women in the world of her kind.

The graceful ones. She made that exposed wrist look like something special. She turned her hand up, and a pale blue vein ran over the inside of her wrist, just below the skin. It forked, and disappeared into the soft palm of her hand. He imagined that that part of her skin must be softest. If he would press his thumb to it, or his lips, then he would be able to feel her warm heartbeat.

Asuma stood nearby the pineapples. He leaned in as if he inspected them.

Suddenly she looked to the side. The orange rolled out of her hand. "Oh?"

He was quick to pick it up for her. His hand closed around it and it felt bouncy. He raised himself up, saw her long legs, her loose kimono, and opened hand. He gave it back. And for the first time, he saw her face. Her yellow eyes made everything in the world disappear.

"Long time no see," she smiled.

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't see," she repeated with a faint smile. "-you. I didn't see you. Your appearance startled me."

Man! He had tuned out completely because of her eyes. That made him reach out and rub the back of his head. "Ah! I thought you said something else. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It is alright," she said. She began to put some oranges into a bag, always squeezing them a first. "What did you think I said?"

He didn't even remember. The way she smiled to herself and brought the orange to her face to smell it with closed eyes, was almost sensual. He maybe wanted her to smell him with that expression.

"Have we met before?"

She glanced at him, and away. She put a eighth orange in the bag.

He said nothing.

She went inside the shop to pay.

He went after her. "Excuse me. But have we?" he asked. He reached out and he put his thumb on the inside of her elbow and turned her around.

She was turned. She looked up to him. She lift her chin.

"Miss, is this man bothering you?"

"No." Her answer was clear--but unclear who she had been speaking to. She stepped closer to Asuma, until their faces were almost touching.

This proximity was way too close. He took a step back.

She glided forward, looking at him with her yellow eyes, unblinking.

He took another step backward. And then she was advancing, effectively backing him into the wall. He felt the stones to his back and a pinboard to his shoulder.

She put one arm on her hip.

For some reason, it felt like ice water was poured down his neck. Cold sweat clung to his back. He had a lump in his throat. The intensity that she reminded him of someone, tripled. But who. Who? Or did he know her? He no longer enjoyed being backed into the wall, or being mind-boggled about who she could be. This was stupid. He pushed off the wall. He straightened up and felt in his pocket for a package of cigarettes. He didn't take it out because they were in the shop, but the gesture calmed him. He was a stress smoker too.

"Sorry," she said.

"Forget it," he said.

She paid. He had his hand on a rack with spices and herbs as he watched her go. She was leaving the store and he was still looking at her. He could follow her. No, was best to let her go. But if he had never seen her before, would he see her again? He needed to find out who she reminded him of. This was worse than not being able to find a word that's on the tip of your tongue. This was worse than only having two seconds of a tune stuck in your head and not knowing the rest of the tune. This felt important.

He went after her. She was already twenty meters ahead. He made no move to catch up with her. He mentally went back to his ninja training. Was this important for the village? He couldn't put his finger on it. Was this important to team 8? No. His instinct said it wasn't. Was this important to the family? To himself?

Intensely so.

He walked faster to catch up with her. He thought of a reason to talk with her. When he caught up with her, he still hadn't prepared anything to say.

She looked to her left, at him. Yellow eyes. Black rings around her eyelids.

He froze. He stood still in the middle of the busy street.

She stood still too, and the crowd moved around them. She gently pushed her bag with oranges to his chest.

He caught it automatically in his arms. It was as if they'd done this a hundred times before. She felt familiar. Yes, she felt familiar. Like family. Or like someone he wanted to make part of his family. He caught a glimpse of her exposed wrist again.

She smiled. It was a mysterious smile. He couldn't pinpoint if it was happy or sad, amusement or longing. She turned, and went on her way.

Adopted.

In this new arrangement, she glided over the streets with a grace as if she was ice-skating. He walked after her in brisk strides. She halted, well, he halted too. When he made remarks about this or that, she didn't reply. But every time he saw her smile in the same faint manner. She visited several shops, six or seven, including a cosmetics store that he had avoided because it smelled like someone had mixed a hundred smoke bombs and detonated them earlier today.

She browsed the makeup section and picked up purple eyeshadow, eyepencil. She sent him an amused look, beaming with mirth. Her yellow eyes glittered with happiness as if she knew something he didn't. She didn't apply the makeup, just bought it. It was expensive too. So much money for a box of powder. And a drawing pencil didn't cost a thing, so why did a makeup pencil have to cost twenty as much? It wasn't as if the production costs were higher.

Something about the colour purple irked him. It made him... upset. It wasn't as much as the colour, it was the shade, as if it was wrong. When he thought of purple then he thought of Ino-chan, but this beautiful graceful woman didn't remind him of Ino in the least. Shit, he should still buy a present for Ino. Maybe here? Maybe he could ask Her for some help. He was an adult man, how the hell could he know what a teenage girl would like.

But she had paid and was on the way out.

"Hey," he chased after her with the question on her lips.

But then she said "hey," back and that robbed him of all his breath.

She took a right turn and went into an alley with shops that was away from the busiest street. He went after her. The next alleyway was darker with overhead laundry spanning from the left building to the right building. Scent of laundry dergent was in the air. She stopped walking. She turned around in the narrow alleyway. She had her eyes on his chest, on his neck, on his lips, and then she looked into his eyes.

He carefully put her grocheries down onto the tiles. "We need to talk," he said. "Do you mind if I-?"

She shook her head.

He put a cigarette in his mouth and he raced his thumb over the lighter wheel. He held the flame to, and he dragged the air into his mouth, over his lungs.

"You remind me of someone and I can't put my finger on it," he said.

She shifted her weight to her other leg, now frowning, "Do I."

"Yeah."

She looked uncomfortable.

He blew out smoke. It was grey air that was straight when it came out of his mouth but then made puffy clouds.

She inhaled it, and only when he was halfway his cigarette, she put a hand over her nose. She waved her hand. "I changed my opinion. I do mind. You shouldn't smoke, Asuma. It's bad for you."

"How do you know my n-"

She plucked the cigarette from his mouth. He caught her wrist. She wanted to free herself. He caught her other wrist. She spread her arms like a T, and then she stood up onto her tippy toes. She pressed her lips onto his.

What the fuck. He kept switching between her being a woman he had never seen before, and someone who he was intimately familiar with. He wondered if he was put under a genjutsu of sorts. He wondered if this was a planned assassination attempt? But that couldn't be. He was the one who had gone after her. He wondered if this was safe, kissing her.

"Does that feel familiar?" she asked with her hot mouth to his mouth.

"No."

"It does to me." She pressed her lips down, in another kiss. She pressed herself against him. He could feel the plumpness of her breasts. She pressed him to step back until he again stood with his back to the wall and he couldn't get enough of those presses. Ever place she touched him felt hot, even though her skin was somewhat cold. He opened his mouth a little and kissed her back. Kissing her felt forbidden.

This was a bad idea because she was a stranger, probably, or someone who possibly wanted to do him harm. He had always pitied the fools who fell for the honeybee ninjas who went on lipstick missions. He hadn't understood how people could fall for them. But now he was here, and goddamn this woman kissed good. If she was after something he considered himself warned. But he'd rather damn himself to a week of office work than stop her. He let go of her hands. She dropped the cigarette. If she'd try anything mean, he would stop her. But right now all she seemed to want was to be kissed.

She was shy with her tongue, so he opened his mouth and tilted his head. He showed her how. Her tongue was warm, and only the tip pushed against his. She had her hands run over his flack jacket until the shoulders, and she grabbed his shoulders.

He wrapped his arms around her waist. Such a slender waist. He pulled her close.

The kisses made his thoughts fade, so he kissed more then opened his eyes.

She had her eyes open too. The broke their mouths apart, but kept holding on. She glanced away. For a second she was flustered, as if she didn't know what had come over her, why she was in this situation. She flushed red. She glanced to the left and right side of the alleyway, but his arms were locked around her waist. He tugged to get her attention. "Are you okay?"

"Yesss?"

He leaned in and he kissed her again. She held still. She kissed him back, and then something inside her must've gotten hungry because now she was the one that was needy for his attention.

The kisses intensified. They deepened. Now she was zipping open his flack jacket and putting her hands under his shirt. Her hands roamed over his stomach, and he flexed so she could feel the deep lines of his abs.

She left a track of kisses onto his jaw, along his beard. She kissed his neck and pushed down his collar for a kiss.

He tilted his head a little back and while she sucked on his neck for a hickey, he tested the strap of her kimono, trying to decide how far he wanted to go with her. It was hard to think when her fingers were sliding up to his nipples, pinching there, and then down his happy trail over the fabric. She palmed his cock, seeking the outline, finding it. She squeezed, and he remembered her at the shop squeezing the orange and then pressing it to her nose with such a blissful expression. He imagined her pressing her face to the side of his cock and making that inhale and happy sigh.

She wouldn't even have to open those beautiful yellow eyes, he would already be content with her run her pale lips over the side of his cock to the head. Then if she would open up her wide mouth, perhaps she would smile before taking him in. He remembered how warm her mouth had been on his. He could feel how warm her mouth was on his neck. He imagined how warm and wet her mouth would be down there. She would use her shy tongue a little more. It didn't matter if she didn't. As long as she sucked. Then her cheeks would hollow. And then she would flick her eyes up and look up to him.

"Hard already~?" Her voice was sing-song, a tease, but that lightness betrayed some nerves.

He loved women. Like his father the notorious womanizer, he loved women. He especially loved slender women with long black hair and expressive eyes. He put a hand on the back of her head to keep her lips to his neck. She worked on a second hickey, and the third made him shudder. He opened his mouth and a moan came out.

She lift a leg, and her knee parted her kimono. She ran her knee up his thigh. Her kimono parted further. The strap Asuma had fumbled with, now unravelled and fell in three loose circles around her waist. She pressed herself against his hips. She wasn't wearing any trousers, no underwear either.

He was about to question what kind of reasons a woman may have to walk around without-... and then she said, "Please do me, daddy."

Oh. Wow.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as he slipped his hand between her legs and got her going. His old man had told him that the spot between a woman's legs was as sensitive as the tip of one's nose. Jabbing the clit like a button hurt, or something. He withdrew his hand to check the length of his nails. Short nails. Good. Even in these shadows he could see that there were already threads of wetness between his fingers. Had she been fantasizing?

He put his pointer and ring fingers between the folds above her clit, and drew slow circles. Yeah, that got her going. She began to breathe deeper, and he alternated between medium and light touch. "I can't do it well if you keep quiet. So can you place my hand where you like it? And give directions sometimes?" Every woman was different.

She took his wrist. She smiled without meeting his eyes. She placed his fingers on what he thought was exactly the same spot, but it seemed to matter to her, because when he drew circles here, she was suddenly arching against him. She pressed their cheeks together. She moaned quietly near his ear. Her breath was warm on his ear-shell.

He did that for a few minutes, having hardly an idea what he was doing, but as long as she clung to him it was going well. After drawing circles, he went opted to draw lines, and eventually he decided he would just go through the entire alphabet (which is what he usually did with this tongue).

Whenever he asked for feedback she said 'left' or 'faster' or 'slower'. It hardly made a difference to him, but it seemed to work for her because after ten minutes was almost climbing him. His hand was tired and his fingers numb, but he had such power over her.

After another ten minutes, she was a wreck. She was flushed red, and sweating, and her knees trembled. She could hardly stand. She looked up to him with glassy watery eyes, and he thought she was about to cry, but this was different--she was so relaxed. He had stripped her from every layer of defense, and her body was overreacting everywhere. "You okay?"

"You're ssso patient," she whispered, almost in awe. It made him feel like he was better than other guys because of it. She pressed her lips against his. It was a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. "Asuma, please. Please. Do me."

"No condom on me." Sorry about that. "You?"

"STDs?" she asked weakly.

"No."

"Me neither, then do me."

He removed his tired hand. Her liquids had run all the way to his knuckles and down to her knees. He hooked his thumb in the elastic waistband of his black trousers and pushed it down.

Her nails scratched over his flack jacket in a mad scramble to get closer to him, despite the fact there was no air left between them. He lift her knee, she held it up, and he steered to her vagina. He slowly tested the opening. She impaled herself onto the head, and fuck that was warm. It slipped in. Everything was warm and wet. She opened her mouth and inhaled lightly to get used to the feeling. He bucked his hips and pushed in fully. It made her eyes widen and she gasped. She stiffened up completely, and five nails jabbed into the sensitive nape of his neck.

He held still. Her touch lessened. Then they were fucking. First it was this way, and a little later it was the other way around where she had her back against the wall and a leg around his waist.

Her orgasm was building, and she moaned his name. No suffix, nothing that could indicate what type of status-relation they had. If it had been -kun or -sama or -senpai, then he would at least have know which direction to guess in. The only ones who spoke his name without suffix were his direct family members and Kurenai (sometimes Shikamaru), or his enemies.

"Asuma," she moaned.

"I liked what you called me before." He panted.

"What did I call you."

He answered, "-'Daddy'."

"Daddy," she said. Her moans became from quiet to louder, but she was never too loud. So she was the quiet type. He liked that. He thrust again in several short burst, and that made her moan cutely, almost like hiccups. She was so thin and so beautiful. She was so crazy pretty.

He was nearing his peak. He gritted his teeth. "Almost coming."

She clung to him tighter. "You can come inside me. Fill me up?"

Yeah, as if he'd never heard that one before. He was a bachelor. And since his brother and his wife --Konohamaru's parents-- had died in pursuit of Orochimaru, and later when Orochimaru had killed their dad, Asuma was also Sarutobi clanhead.

He kissed her with half-lidded eyes. They panted in each other's mouth between kisses.

Better not make another Sarutobi bastard. The gods knew that Dad left enough behind. He watched her vy for his lips, chest exposed, breasts bouncing. His cock slid in and out of her, and then he pulled out completely. He finished off with a few strokes of his hand. His balls tightened up to critical state and came. Semen exploded, a blissful release after such a long built-up. He leaned against her, chest to chest and cheek to cheek, while she rubbed her clit fast with her own fingers. He came down from his high.

She was still working on her orgasm. He stepped closer. He pressed her against the wall. He kissed her ear and neck. He nipped her skin. He sucked. "Be good," he whispered. "-come for Daddy." By lack of creativity, he added, "Make me proud."

That sent her over the edge. She moaned. She trembled violently. Her knees shook as if they could give in. She would have collapsed if he hadn't put his arms around her. She came long, as if this orgasm hadn't been building for thirty minutes but instead years. She begged him all sorts of things, illegible things because she was moaning so much. He settled on telling her she had made him proud.

They kissed tired, sloppily. In the next minute they verified if the other was okay, and he laughed at her weakness because it was so cute. She grimaced about hardly being able to walk. She didn't mind, he could tell. She didn't really mind his teases or many questions. Something about that felt familiar too. He so wanted to be liked by her, in youthful ways that he'd abandoned and almost forgotten. He felt like maybe she had once been his senpai, but that couldn't be, because she was definitely younger than him.

"You're in no state to walk."

"I just need to rest," she said. She leaned against the wall by herself and yeah, she did need at least five minutes to catch her breath and tie her clothes shut. She leaned her shoulder against his and ever so often she chuckled quietly, as if she had bursts of embarrassment or mirth. Then he smiled too, and chuckled, and then they were laughing under their breath together, pushing the center of their joined weight from one too the other. "Can I walk you home?"

"I just need to get to the Willow- and Oak Crossing," she said. "Someone is waiting for me there."

A boyfriend? A friend? He was suddenly reluctant to ask. She gave the sign to get going. He pushed off her. They fixed themselves and then then checked each other. He took her grocheries. He walked with her through the narrow alleyway, and then onward to the Willow-bridge. This moment felt just like on the shopping street, him carrying everything, chasing after her. She was still beautiful, still with her long black hair over her back like a waterfall. Individual strands were picked up by in the wind.

"Will I see you again?" he asked to her back.

"Mm."

He took two strides to catch up with her. He looked at her face, but she kept her eyes ahead on the road. Her chin was a little lifted. She looked regal.

"I hope it's not too late to ask for your name," he said. "I want to least know that. You know mine."

Ahead on the street, a young man veered up from the bench nearby the bridge. He waved. He was a twig with white hair and round glasses that covered the largest part of his face. He was younger than her.

Can't be a boyfriend, Asuma decided. He's too young. Maybe a younger brother? But the woman and glasses-guy were like day an night.

They'd arrived at the bench with the stranger. Asuma seized him up.

"Can I carry anything?"

"Everything," she decided.

Asuma loaded all the groceries onto him. He thought the scrawny guy might bend under the weight, but that was arrogance. Asuma wanted him to bend under the weight. This young man had more muscle than he seemed to have at first sight, or perhaps his clothes were too big. The groceries were all loaded onto the new mule.

She reached out to a particular bag of the make-up store logo and checked it.

"Happy?" he asked.

"No," she said, "But I am content."

Mysterious again. This whole enigmatic attitude and non-communication began to bother him. He wondered how the hell they had gotten that moment of sex, with so little communication between them. He felt over a pocket of his flack jacket and intended to light a cigarette.

She turned on the ball of her foot to Asuma, and her clothes seemed to drift in the wind in slow-motion. She said, "I'll get going now." She lift one arm to invite an embrace. Her sleeve sagged away from her hand, showed her underam.

He was slightly distracted by checking out her wrist, trying to determine if it was still as sexy, when he saw a few lines. He couldn't tell if it were scars, they looked like wrinkles and then he suddenly couldn't look at it any more because she was hugging him around the neck with one arm, the way men usually do. She gave him a one-armed bro-hug that was completely at odds with everything else about her.

"I hope to see you again sssomeday," she whispered.

He caught her in both arms, interrupting her strange stand-off-ish hug. He changed it by actually holding her. He held her right and tight.

She pressed her pressed her nose to his neck. He looked down on her. She smiled and nuzzled, as if this was the safest place in the world to her. She the breathed in deep. Finally, finally, she was making the expression that he had wanted her to make all along. She looked happy now, as if she had come home.

He breathed in deep, too.

A scent of intense familiarity hit him and he knew that in the next minute, he would know who she was. He would solve the mystery of her identity and familiarity.

They said their goodbyes. Him, reluctant. She, timid. He wanted to stall but she went on. She walked away. Glasses-kun trotted after her like a little brother. Then she went over the bridge. She lingered. Then she was gone, into the forest that lead to the village gates and the wide world outside the village.

Her smell. She had smelled like home! She looked and smelled exactly like Orochimaru nii-san.

The realization hit him like lightning. 

He felt so many things. He didn't even know where to begin processing it. Gross. Longing. It was so much, and so intense, too. His sense of duty kicked in. He intended to chase after him and Yakushi Kabuto, but Asuma only made it as far as halfway up the bridge when he had to lean over the railing and throw up.

He felt filthy. The taste of kisses was vanished on his lips now. He preferred the bile. He clutched the railing of the bridge and felt another wave come up from deep within his stomach. It rose as he thought of what had just happened, and it pushed up his food pipe. He spit it out, and it clattered against the surface of the fast-moving river.

He wiped his mouth with his shoulder, which smelled like Him. He put his forehead against the railing. He took a few deep breaths, and then he raised himself up. He fumbled for his cigarettes, his hands shaking. Instead of a box of cigarettes and a lighter he found the box of eye-shadow in Ino's colour and an eyeliner pencil. 

Asuma had his graduation gift for Ino-chan, but he wished he had never gone shopping.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me comments! Even if it's just a smily emoji. I spent my afternoon writing this and now my arms hurt. A comment is social currency that makes me write more! 
> 
> If I aroused you, you must leave two emoji's. >;D Muhahaha.


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